Fix You
by MyEccentricSelf
Summary: How does Sam react when his grandmother dies and it seems like everyone has already moved on?


__**This is just something I thought of while listening to the Coldplay song. Enjoy.**

**I do not own the song Fix You by Coldplay or the characters that are Alan Bradley or Sam Flynn.**

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><p><em>When you try your best, but don't succeed <em>

_When you get what you want, but not you need_

_When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep_

_Stuck in reverse_

It was nights like this when Sam stayed awake in his bed, his arms under his head , staring at the ceiling, and trying to pretend that there weren't tears in his eyes that were threatening to spill over. He knew what it felt like to lose someone. Hell, he'd lost both his is mom and his dad by the time he was only seven years old. He should be immune to this by now, it shouldn't faze him anymore.

But he couldn't bear the thought that now…he was the only Flynn left.

He turned on his side, staring out the window in Alan's guest room. It was raining, the perfect weather for how he was feeling now. His last family member had died, it was only fitting that the weather outside be as dreary as possible. In the back of his mind, Sam knew that this wasn't his fault. His grandmother had been pretty old, and she had lost both her son and her husband, both leaving her to take care of him. Something told him though, that if he had been a bit easier, not have been such a troublemaker that she would still be there, he would sleeping in his room now instead of at Alan's house…he would have been told to finish his homework, or he would have been asked about the nice girl that had been talking to him when his grandmother had picked him up from school yesterday.

Maybe she would have been coming into the garage by now, telling Sam to go to sleep, his dad's Ducati would be there the next day with all the tools he would need.

_And the tears come streaming down your face_

_When you lose something that you can't replace_

_When you love someone, but it goes to waste_

_Could it be worse?_

"Sam?" Alan's voice came through the crack in the door, and Sam closed his eyes, feeling the tears fall on his cheeks as he pretended to be asleep.

His father's friend sat at the foot of his bed, staring at the wall, trying to find something to day. Lora, his wife, had sent him in here to talk to the seventeen year old, but Alan just didn't know what to say. What could he? 'I'm sorry ' just didn't do anything, and Sam had heard that so many times over the years that it probably didn't mean a thing to him. And Alan couldn't blame the kid for that.

"You know Sam…there's a saying. 'Bad things always seem to happen to good people.' I just want you to know that I'm here for you if you need anything."

Saying the words Alan wanted to shake his head. This wasn't helping the troubled teen, and he didn't want to make what was probably going to be a strained relationship worse, he had custody of Sam for another year before he was a certified adult and he didn't want the teen to put a wall between them. At least a wall bigger than he had already put.

Sam didn't respond, instead he let out a sigh, trying to send a message to Alan. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now. He wanted to wallow in his sorrow until the morning when he would go out in public and pretend like nothing was wrong…because the media didn't want to see a depressed Flynn…no they wanted the chaotic one. The one that got into trouble with the law.

_Lights will guide you home_

_And ignite your bones _

_And I will try to fix you_

"Alright class, can we all turn in our homework?"

Sam looked at the teacher from where he sat in the back of the class, away from everyone. He couldn't understand how it had only been one day and no one seemed to acknowledge the fact that he had yet to crack one smartass remark to the teacher or anyone else. No one seemed to notice the fact that it wasn't his grandmother's car, but Alan's that drove him to school that morning. They didn't notice…and they didn't care.

Thinking this, Sam couldn't help but get angry. He had lost everyone he'd ever cared about and yet no one seemed to even care about that. Everything was the same as two days ago. The mindless routine of school, the kids eager to get out and go to some party or to go home and see someone who was visiting them. For him however, he was meant to go home to a place that was not his, and never would be his, to maybe see his actual house, go and pack some of his things and pretend that everything was okay.

How could he pretend that everything was okay when it wasn't?

_And high up above or down below_

_When you're to in love to let go_

_But if you never try you'll never know _

_Just what you're worth_

Sam stood up then, his chair falling behind him at his abruptness. Everyone turned to look at him, surprised as he moved, walking through the neat aisles between desks in the classroom, passed the teacher and to the door.

"Mr. Flynn, class isn't over yet."

Sam stopped, his hand on the knob, and turned back to look at his teacher, "I hadn't noticed."

Without another word, he walked out of the classroom and into the hallway, going to the nearest fire extinguisher and throwing out the window that the box was across from. It felt nice to destroy something, nice to allow himself a way to get rid of his anger.

The people in that classroom didn't care, no one cared. They only cared for the money that his dad had left behind.

Their uncaring attitude…that's what he wanted to have, and as the extinguisher went through the window, the sound of glass shattering and falling to the floor cutting through the silence of the school hallway, he knew that he could have it easily.

He moved closer to the broken window, looked down at the two story drop and jumped. The feeling was amazing, the wind in his short blond hair. This was a feeling that he would always want to remember, until he hit the ground.

As he landed from the drop, he heard the crack as his right leg connected to the ground, felt the pain surge through him as he realized that he had probably broke the bone. The pain brought him to a more realistic state.

What was he thinking?

_Lights will guide you home_

_And ignite your bones_

_And I will try to fix you_

"Mr. Bradley, I really think that you should consider sending him to therapy."

Sam sat outside the principal's office, his leg in a cast, crutches leaning against the wall beside his chair. This was the first time that he had been to the office under this type of circumstance. Sure he had had his grandmother called there plenty of times, but they'd never suggested to her that he needed therapy.

"He jumped out of a second story window, sir, I'm surprised he only experienced a broken bone. The outcome could have been much worse."

Alan didn't seem to be the one talking in this meeting, the only thing he had said the whole time was a greeting to Mr. Umplet. Sam didn't like the idea of therapy, especially if he was going to be forced into it. He didn't need to talk to anyone, he knew how to deal with lose by now. He knew how to help himself.

_Tears stream down your face_

_When you lose something you cannot replace_

_Tears stream down your face_

_And I…_

"It's only for a month. Debra is really good at what she does Sam. This is going to help you."

Sam ignored Alan, choosing instead to look out the window of the car as they drove down the highway and into the city, toward the office where the woman Debra supposedly resided. He'd already expressed plenty of times that he didn't need to talk to anyone. He didn't need someone to diagnose his problems.

He knew what his problems were…and they were the fact that everyone else didn't seem upset in the least that someone who had been so amazing had died. His grandmother had done so many things for the high school, she had been there for her son, and even for Sam…and none of the students seemed to acknowledge that.

They all realized that she brought most of the baked goods for the sports team bake sales when they wanted to get new jersey's or equipment or whatever the hell they needed that year. They realized that she was the cheerleader from the stands that cheered for them even when they were losing horribly because they had sidelined Sam for reckless behavior.

He knew what was wrong…and this Debra wasn't going to be able to do anything for him.

_Tears stream down your face_

_I promise you I will learn from my mistakes_

_Tears stream down your face_

_And I…_

"He's incredibly depressed, the little that he spoke to me showed that clearly." Debra was talking to Alan alone, the second time this week that Sam had been told to sit in the lobby as the adults spoke about him.

He didn't like that they weren't even trying to be quiet, he could hear every word that the woman was saying.

"He jumped out of a window, I'm pretty sure that says depressed." Alan's voice sounded about as annoyed as Sam felt. The older man was annoyed that everyone was only saying that his friend's son was depressed. He could tell that by looking at the seventeen year old, let alone taking note of his actions. Of course the kid was depressed, he'd lost most of the people that had ever cared about him.

"We need to schedule another appointment, after that I may be able to make a proper diagnoses of his problems."

"I know what his problem is. He lost his grandmother, the woman that took care of him after his father disappeared, and everyone is trying to act as if nothing has happened, this isn't helping him." Alan's voice was angry and it surprised Sam.

The seventeen year old hadn't thought that the older man understood what was going through his head in the past couple of weeks. Some part of him felt a small piece of joy that someone understood a little of what he was going through.

_Lights will guide you home_

_And ignite your bones_

_And I will try to fix you_

"Thanks." Sam took the cup that Alan offered him, the coffee shooting off steam as they sat outside in the California air.

They had left the psychologist's office in a hurry and Alan seemed determined to make up for the crappy work that Debra had done.

"Listen Sam-"

The blond shook his head, his blue eyes finding Alan's spectacled ones, "I'm sorry."

The two men sat in silence for a moment, "For what Sam?"

"I don't know…it just seemed like the right thing to say."

The teenager looked away from the older man, looking at the cars as they drove by the coffee shop. Alan was the only person left that had had a connection to his father, the only person left that really cared for him, and the one that was trying to fix him, even after he did a stupidly crazy thing like jumping out of a second story window. He felt like he owed the man an apology, owed the man some sort of explanation.

He wanted Alan to know how he felt because there might be some small part of the older man that felt the same way.

"It's okay Sam. I understand."


End file.
